Disclaimer : I don't own Transformers or any of it's affiliates. I also don't own any songs used. I only own my OC(s).

Summary : They say 'be careful what you wish for', but do any of us ever listen? I never did. I mean, I never thought I'd ever have reason to. Then I bought raffle tickets, won an entirely unexpected surprise, made a careless wish, and suddenly my world's been turned completely upside down. Suddenly, I'm thrown into something I'm not entirely sure I can handle. At least I'm not alone?

Pairings :

Optimus/OC

Ironhide/OC

Lennox/Sarah

Sam/Mikaela

Legend :

"Speaking"

Thoughts

Lyrics/Notes/Messages

Flashback/POV/Time Changes

:Internal Comms:

Warnings :

Rated M for lots of foul language, possibly some gore and maybe a few romantic scenes.

(?)

You know, I generally see myself as an easy going, laid back girl. Very little truly bothered me, and even less pissed me off for me to actually react to it. But if there was anything that pushed my buttons, it was stupidity.

Stupidity, arrogance, insensitivity, bitchiness, assholes...

You get the picture.

...I hope...

"Yeah, I brought my car in about two hours ago. Is it done yet?"

Chewing my cheek idly, I pasted what felt like a truly plastic smile on my features, eyed the fire-breathing behemoth before me with most likely poorly concealed annoyance, and tried to resist the urge to shove the wrench in my overalls pocket up her fake-as-a-three-dollar-bill ass. Sideways. After dipping it in super glue. It's not like there's a giant-ass window behind me, clearly showing your car on the lift, being serviced as we speak... Oh, wait! There is!

It was such a simple question, and it wasn't even the stupidity of the question that annoyed me. This time. It was the condescending tone it was asked in.

"Not yet, Mrs. Betchum."

The woman in front of me gave me a sour look. "It's been two hours! What have you guys been doing in here?!"

Having a tea party? Laughing at your horrible makeup job? Taking bets on how long before you randomly start twerking around the flag pole outside? Plotting your slow and painful murder? I took a breath and held it a moment, trying to keep my smartass-ism in control. "We had two cars listed before you. Didn't Matthew tell you?" I made a show of looking down at my clipboard, as if to double check, not that there'd be a note there on whether or not Matt had been curteous or a right bastard. I just needed an excuse to avoid the nasty expression Satan was currently sporting.

I mean, I knew damn well he'd told her.

I was there when he did so!

You know, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. Bit-uh, Betchum was a regular. Everyone knew her. She was known as 'Satan' or 'Bitchum' around the shop for this very reason, and yet, here she was, being a bitch. Again. And here I was, struggling not to beat her to death with my clipboard. Again.

It was moments like this that I felt that, if there were awards for self-restraint, I'd have a fucking warehouse full! Hell, all of us at Joe's Mechanics would! And we'd probably have days where we just got together, shone our trophies, and relived our war stories.

Like the time Bitchum locked her keys in her car and had to call a tow truck!

She couldn't understand why no one would help!

Or why everyone was laughing at her!

Never mind her car was a convertible...

...And the top was down...

"Yes, he told me, but I assumed that you professionals would be done by now!"

"Nope." I felt my eye twitch. Was it bad just her mere presence was enough to sour my mood for the day? I need better anger control techniques. I gripped the board firmly, but refused to dig my fingernails into it and show her how annoyed her nasty tone was making me. "I'm afraid not." God, someone hit this bitch with a car, please! Plastering another fake-ass smile to my features, I made a point to pop my gum, watching her eye twitch.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not a huge lover of gum, but when I know Satan's stopping by, I always make it a point to pop three pieces of the double bubble, just for the sheer sake of annoying the fuck out of her!

"But we should be done soon, if you'd like to wait in the-"

"No, I don't want to 'wait in the waiting room'! Ugh!"

Then go row, row, row your boat gently off a cliff! I grit my teeth silently, digging them into the gum as if by violently chewing my gum, I could perform some magical voodoo shit and she would collapse in blinding agony.

Unfortunately, Satan did not in fact spontaneously combust. No. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips, glared out the window at my coworkers as they serviced her vehicle, and noteably rolled her eyes in very visible disdain.

That's it.

No collapsing or screaming in pain, or randomly melting into a nice, silent puddle of goo in front of me.

Damn.

"I'll be back in an hour. Have the car ready and waiting, please." Without even waiting for me to reply, she turned and sauntered out of the office, nearly slamming the door behind her.

I groaned once she was gone, and dropped the clipboard to my side, before turning and sluggishly slipping back into the garage, myself. "One of these days, I think we should just boycott working on Satan's car all together. Let her fix it, if she's so damn unsatisfied with our work. It's not like we trained for this job-Oh, wait-"

"You should know better than to let her get to you, by now." My boss cast me a glance across the room, his gaze showing sympathy.

I groaned in response and nearly dropped down to sit cross legged and throw a fit...before deciding I should probably just get the work done so Bitchum could come back, take her car, and go take a long hike off a short cliff. "I hate my job. Have I ever told you guys how much I hate my job?" Yes, I whined. I decided to act my shoe size instead of my age.

Fuck it!

Mikey grinned over at me with a semi apologetic look. "Every single day. And sometimes, on especially bad days, twice a day, even!"

Matthew peeked out from the cabinet he was hiding behind and made a face. "I distinctly remember a day where that was all she'd said." He piped up, sliding out from his makeshift hiding place and going to join Joe over on the Mazda on the other side of the room. "'Hi, Ellie! How are you?'. 'I hate my job'."

"'What did you have for breakfast?', 'I hate my job'." Joe grinned.

"'Who's car you working on today?', 'I hate my job'." Mikey snickered.

Grabbing my wrench, I hefted it threateningly and glared at each of the guys, pointing the wrench from one to the other menacingly...before sighing and letting my arm drop to my side again. Yeah, they were right. "Bitchum'll be back in an hour. Let's have her car ready by then, please. Or I swear to God, I'll run her down on my bicycle!"

Dropping the clipboard next to the greasy socket wrench on top of an oily rag, I raised my eyebrow at it, grinned evilly, and made a point to slide my finger through the grease on the rag, before smearing it in different places on the form. I made sure to make it look like the form had simply been 'handled' by messy hands, knowing Bitchum would have to handle the sheet and get it alllll over her hands, before stepping back and admiring my work.

"Finger painting again, Ellie?"

"Bitchum had it coming." I shrugged and wiped my hands off on my short jean cut offs and wandering over to the raffle box, eyeing it warily. "So, how's the raffle going?"

Mikey walked over and reached out to snag the rag I'd just used to mess up Satan's paperwork. He leaned against the counter next to me, taking his time in wiping down the screwdriver he held. "A) You're the one handing her those papers when she comes back. I kinda like my balls attached, thanks."

I snorted and snickered.

Yeah, there was no way in hell that was happening. I would just wait until last minute to find some reason to be legitimately busy when she arrived, and stick him with it.

Hey, I had my time with Satan! I was done for the day!

Or...year...if I was lucky enough...

"And B) We've made about three hundred, so far."

I took a moment to process his words. Then I nodded, pursing my lips. "That's...uh...not bad?"

Silence met my answer, and with a knowing mutter, I turned my head. I didn't need to see the look of disbelief on Mike's face to know it was there, but sure enough, when I turned to look, he was wearing his standard 'You're fucking kidding, right?' expression.

Making a face, I groaned. "Okay, okay! It's really fuckin' bad!"

There was a snort from my left. "Tell us what you really feel."

SMACK!

Pulling my hand back, I turned to find myself half-heartedly glaring at the man next to me. "I know Walkerton's small, but the raffle's been going on a week! You'd think people would want to get off their ever enlarging assets and try to keep the only people in town who keep their cars running in work!"

"Ellie-"

"I'm not saying give every penny, but three hundred? Out of a town of over eight thousand? That's like less than half the people donating five bucks, if that!"

"Ellie!"

"I know!" I groaned and pushed off the counter. "I know, Mikey! 'Not everyone's well off', right? Well, over half the town is." Being just a little distance between Tranquility Nevada and Mission City and having to deal with the massive increase in tourists in the area, I should hope our small town was fairly well off!

And still, despite eight thousand people living in and around the town, we'd only made three hundred? We were the only mechanic in the town.

Well...the only professional mechanic...

There were a few amateurs going around, offering cheaper prices and stealing our much necessary clientelle.

My eye twitched and I clenched my teeth again, trying not to get depressed at the thought. Is it really that bad? I thought they were small fries! Shaking my head, I heaved a deep breath and decided to focus back on the topic at hand. "'Well off' or not, everyone can donate five dollars."

I felt distinctly...well, I wasn't sure if 'disgusted' was the right word. 'Conflicted' fit better, I suppose. I felt...cheated. Like I had the distinct thought that no one cared. Not about the company and not about us, and that's why no one was donating. Of course, at the same time, I felt guilty for judging people, many of which I didn't know well enough to judge.

I dismissed the thought a moment after it appeared. I was just being paranoid and selfish. Even as I bitched, I had to keep in mind that people had families to feed, and that no, not everyone could donate five dollars. I decided in that moment that the conversation had steered in a direction I didn't want to follow, and it was time to end it.

Flapping a hand dismissively, I effectively ended the conversation between us in the simplest way possible.

I walked away.

Yes, I was aware it was childish, but hey! Shoe size, not age, remember?

In fact, I walked over to the raffle box and stared at it.

It was a simple box with what looked to be balloon-decaled wrapping paper covering it, and a small slot across the top of the box itself. The card next to it stated it was a 'mysterious prize', but knowing Joe, it was probably something related to Transformers. You know, since we live between Tranquility and Mission City, both of which were used for the filming of the first movie itself.

Well, technically, the first two.

I mean, if the fandom was what brought us so much tourism, the locals seemed to think that holding contests and raffles with primarily Transformers-related rewards was the way to go.

Not that I was complaining. I was all for winning free Transformers merchandise!

Instead of giving the information on the small board too much thought, I pulled off my overalls, revealing my black tank top, dug through the back pocket of my jean shorts for my wallet, dug out one of the three blank checkes I kept on me at all times and filled out what I felt was a decent amount, before folding it up and dropping it in the box, putting the wallet back into my pocket, and pulling my overalls back up again.

Then, just because I could feel the paint peeling around me and just knew, without even looking, Joe was giving me the stink eye, I reached out and purposely grabbed a handful of tickets, tossing them in the pocket of my overalls, most likely to be forgotten for another six months to a year.

Turning back to the car at hand, I heaved a breath, caught the raised eyebrow Joe sent me and sent him one back, practically daring him to bitch about the donation.

Stupid men and their stupid pride...

He didn't.

Instead, the two of us returned to work on our respective vehicles, like nothing had ever happened. Mikey moved to help me on the Toyota, and Matthew moved to assist Joe on the Mazda on the other side of the garage.

The next hour was spent working.

It was like some unspoken agreement that made me wonder if my three male coworkers weren't secretly psychic that all conversation of the fundraiser part of the raffle was dropped. They didn't approach me, and any conversations that started had nothing to do with money or fundraising in any way.

Of course, it couldn't stay off the raffle for long...

"What is the reward, anyways?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you."

Rolling my eyes, I tried not to groan while tightening a few bolts around the tire rod we'd just replaced. "Where's the fun in that? Come on, the least you can do is drop hints as to what I just dropped a chunk of cash on."

"You assume you already won."

Now I slanted a look at Joe. "I bought more tickets in one go than the rest of the town in the past week. If I don't win, then the universe is really fucking unfair." Then I snorted. "Besides, if I didn't win it, what's the harm in telling me?" Not to mention, I'm pretty sure we all know it's something Transformers-related.

"And what about Mikey and Matt?"

Raising an eyebrow, I peered over at the brunette in his thick glasses. "Mattie, honey, did you buy tickets?"

He made a face and shrugged. "Maybe..."

I glanced out of my peripheral. "Mikey?"

"A few."

With a nod, I lowered my arms, only reaching up to shove some of my hair out of my face with a mental curse at the few stubborn strands that never stayed back. "And do either of you have any complaints to knowing what the reward is?"

Matt smirked. "I already know."

Mike gave him a look. "Asshole."

Snorting, I shook my head and reached back up, spotting another loose bolt. I tightened that one with a hum and stood back, eyeballing my work, before judging everything done satisfactorily. I didn't tear my eyes off the tire rods, debating between marking my job done, or trumping up some fake work, just to be a sadistic bitch.

After a moment, I pouted and moved out from under the car, deciding my career was more important than satisfying my inner bitch.

"Okay! Done here." I reached for the rag hanging off Mikey's ass, giving in to the urge to cop a feel while I was at it-

BANG!

Only to recoil with a loud snorted 'HAH!' and a bout of hysterical laughter as he jumped and banged his head on the rail along the edge of the lift.

Oh, the downsides of being epically tall.

"Seriously, Ellie?!"

I giggled hysterically, moving to lean against the counter when my legs began to shake from the force of my nearly screaming giggles, and shook my head wildly. "I-I-I'm... I-I'm s-s-so sorry!"

He levelled me with a dirty look while rubbing his head. "Yeah, you sure sound sorry. Seriously! What is it with you and my ass?!" He then reached behind him, rubbing said cheeks with a pout of his own.

I snorted. Again. "I-It's just...so...s-so...glorious!"

He snorted right back at me, and the mock pout on his lips was soon replaced with a grin. Then, as he raised his eyebrows, he turned so his fanny was facing me, and looked over his shoulder at it, the best he could. "It is, isn't it?"

Suddenly, Matt walked over and towel whipped him in the ass.

And Mike yelped a high pitched, almost dog-like yelp.

And I went from calming down right into a second set of hysterical giggles. I leaned against the counter, absently wiping at my hands while shaking my head and giggling away, watching as Mike grabbed another rag and began chasing Matt around, trying to whip him right back.

Joe stood on the other side of the garage, rolling his eyes and laughing at his two employees, watching them goof off.

I followed suit for a good few minutes, before rolling up my rag and grinning evilly as I took off after them, myself.

And just like that, all thoughts of Bitchum and the raffle were forgotten.

Note :

This is a bit different from what I'm used to. This is not a Bella/Twins story. I apologize to those looking for an update on Her Twins, but I have no muse to write anything. Actually, I haven't been able to keep my muses straight to write a full story in forever.

That being said, heads up, I can't promise you I'll finish this story. I will try, but I have no guarantees. And it's a slow burn. Like super slow.

I just thought I'd try posting what I've got so far and see how it works.

P.S.: I may be willing to attempt other OC pairings. No promises though. We'll have to see how the story goes. Ironhide and Optimus are the only two bots listed because they're the two already taken.

FYI: Any spelling mistakes I know nothing about because I can't find the spell check on the site anymore with the new updates *cries*.

Written : Feb 7, 2015

Hope you like it.

Read and Review please.

Thank you.

'Kitten